Harry Potter Morning Light

Once in the kitchen, Pomona put on her apron and started cooking.

Every year at Hogwarts' opening banquet, there must be a dish that both students and teachers love to eat.

Cut the boneless chicken thighs into bite-sized pieces, season with salt and pepper, and dice the onion and celery.

Add a large piece of butter to the pan and then add olive oil, fry the chicken until the surface is golden, then add the onion and celery to the chicken oil and fry with three bay leaves, when the onion is also a little browned, add it Flour, add chicken stock and chicken stew for half an hour.

Stir constantly during cooking, then add the tarragon leaves until you can smell the strong aroma.

To this extent, fry the mushrooms with butter until the surface is browned, put them into the stewed chicken, add the cream and stir well, this is the filling.

When making pie meringue, butter is used, and butter will melt quickly when it comes into contact with human body temperature, which will affect the taste of baking. Pomona usually uses magic to carry out this step.

The prepared puff pastry should be brushed with a layer of oil before being baked in the mold to avoid sticking to the bottom, then put the fillings in, and then weave a puff pastry strip into a net to cover it, and bake for 40 minutes until it is fully cooked.

Then came the tasting session. Professor Minerva McGonagall was in charge of the guests in this issue. After she cut open the chicken pie and tasted it, she was instantly "petrochemically happy".

"How?" Pomona asked expectantly.

"How much butter did you put?" Minerva asked, putting down her fork.

"It was 20% less than usual, and I used olive oil instead." Pomona said with a smile, "I know, olive oil is a healthy food."

"It's still too oily, Pomona, even for me, let alone foreign guests," Minerva said.

"Oh~ you think my dishes are greasy?" Pomona said dissatisfied.

"Sometimes I worry about whether it's blood or oil running through my veins," Minerva said mercilessly. "Why do you think the kids go to Hogsmeade for dinner?"

Pomona was angry.

Carrying the remaining chicken pie, she went to the cellar next door like riding a Firebolt, and knocked on the door of Snape's office.

"What are you doing?" He opened the door and growled impatiently towards the top of her head.

"Try this." Pomona held up the chicken pie in his hand. "Tell me how you feel."

Snape lowered his head, "You give me what others have eaten?"

"Taste~taste~taste~taste." She said every word.

Finally he picked up a piece and took a bite. "Did you use less butter this time?"

"I knew it!" she growled, and strode back to the kitchen with the rest of the pie.

Minerva hadn't left yet, she was drinking the pumpkin juice given to her by the house-elf, and when she saw Pomona came back, she asked provocatively, "How does Severus evaluate?"

Pomona placed the chicken pie on the kitchen table with a thud.

"Substituting olive oil for butter changes the texture."

"I don't want to worry about my heart just to enjoy the momentary taste." Minerva took another sip of pumpkin juice. "I'm not young anymore."

Pomona looked at the wrinkles on Minerva's face, as she would have if she were a human woman herself.

Sometimes we sit in front of the mirror and wish we could turn back time to a time when our hair was shiny, our skin was firm, and we had a happy smile on our face.

"Did you return the Time-Turner to the Ministry?" asked Pomona.

"Of course." Minerva reached for a Yorkshire pudding.

"What did they say?" Pomona asked.

Minerva left the kitchen with the pudding without answering her question.

She pouted dissatisfiedly, looking at the rest of the pie lost in thought.

"Dean," Honey the house-elf said to Pomona in a high-pitched voice, throwing her head back. "Honey thinks your pies are delicious."

"Thank you, Honey," Pomona said with a smile, before leaving the kitchen with the rest of the pie.

Without the little monsters, the castle was much quieter, and she didn't have to pretend to be stable and mature. She found a cool place with a wide view and enjoyed the scenery while eating chicken pie.

The giant squids were swimming in the black lake, and she thought on a whim that she could take a chicken pie with her next time she went to Scamander's house, maybe it could bring back memories of his school days.

Snape suddenly appeared, and he sat beside her, took a piece of chicken pie from the plate in her arms, and imitated her while eating the pie while blowing the wind.

Albus had asked her that day why she tolerated Severus' obsession with the Dark Arts.

She gave him a reason, but that wasn't what she really thought.

She is very envious of people who can stick to their beliefs and don't follow the crowd like a rock. Although many people think that black magic represents evil, and anti-black magic represents justice, Pomona herself can't do it like Severus. other people's opinions.

A "Knight of Merlin" like Rohart is just a cloak of justice. He just didn't want to be on the side of the few. People who make a living by sensationalism certainly hope that the more people who have a good opinion of them, the better.

"bang bang bang"

She felt as if she was about to have a heart attack, and it seemed that, as Minerva said, it was better to put less butter for health.

==================================================== ==============

Pomona puts on her apron and prepares to cook a British meal for the "losers".

While kneading the dough, she seemed to see the artillery lieutenant looking for opportunities in the streets of Paris, watching him disappear into the smoke.

Time is indeed a terrible thing, like a rushing river, the rocks that fall into it turn into smooth pebbles in the end.

What kind of person a person becomes is not what kind of ability he has, but his choice.

There is only one correct path in the maze, should you turn left or right?

Even if he is the first to start, if he chooses the wrong choice and delays the time, and he doesn't know how to get lost immediately, then the time he wasted is enough for the latecomers to catch up.

The only thing in this world that makes her feel a little nostalgic is the book. Not only can she find the original manuscript, but she can also find the translation in Arabic, so that she doesn't need to hold the time converter and bring " Entourage" across the millennium together, looking for the author to answer doubts.

All of these people are dead, and Tom Riddle once thought he was a memory, unaware that he was actually a fragment of a soul.

Memory is like a movie in a Pensieve, outsiders cannot interfere, but Tom in the diary can not only influence and control Ginny, but also create terror in the school.

There is no deadly organ like a heart in the diary, no blood vessels and blood to carry venom to the body, and the basilisk's fangs didn't completely wipe out Ravenclaw's diadem like Fiendflame did.

The soul needs to be attached to the body. If the body is destroyed, it will also be destroyed, but the human soul needs to be immortal, so that the soul can be split and the Horcrux can be made.

Here comes the question of religion and theology, but it's a boring topic that won't interest many people. She could only tentatively understand that the basilisk's venom would break the connection between the soul fragments and the body, which is the magic used by the despicable Hypor to make Horcruxes, but she needed more detailed information about the specific reason.

Power is not only to make people obey, but also to make the other party do what they don't want to do. She knows that asking Saint-Tirrell to do the job is like finding a needle in a haystack. Who asked the French to evacuate the libraries of Alexandria and the Vatican.

That's why they have the best chance of finding that book, and the chances of it being found in libraries in other cities are very low.

She found out where she was going next, and she needed to be prepared to spend money before she set off, after all, activities in human society required money.

In fact, he didn't need to go to such great lengths to hope that she would forgive him. It was a waste of money to buy so many roses.